


Adjust the Sails, Weather the Storm

by Liz_isa_fangirl



Series: The Lost Twin AU (Ducktales 2017) [1]
Category: Disney Cartoons (Classic), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), The Three Caballeros (1944)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author Takes Awhile To Update, Ducktales AU, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Found Family, Gen, Hey Guess What It's Another Dang Hiatus, I Blame Tumblr, Lost Twin Au, Road Trips, Tags Are Hard, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Updates Sporadically, Work In Progress, and is presumed dead, like a really long while, this is going to take a while, where Donald Duck disappears instead of Della
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-12-24 18:24:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12018453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz_isa_fangirl/pseuds/Liz_isa_fangirl
Summary: No one really likes talking about ghosts. Webby, Huey, Dewey, and Louie go looking for them.~*~Donald Duck disappears on his last adventure. Della Duck does not. Donald is presumed dead.Jose Carioca and Panchito Pistoles disappear a month later and are never found. Most people call it grief.Della Duck is left to pick up the pieces.This is the story of what happens afterwards.Concurrently, this is the story of Three Caballeros trying to make their way back to their families. They will ride again. Eventually.





	1. The Last Voyage

**Author's Note:**

> I had this originally written as a one-shot on tumblr for an AU that really got my attention (The Lost Twin Au, by DonaldtheDuckDad; can be seen here: https://donaldtheduckdad.tumblr.com/tagged/lost-twin-au ). So I decided to write it.  
> This in reality is an AU of and AU. I have added and changed a few things ((more specifically, Donald's side plot adventure, featuring of course, The Three Caballeros!)), and I'm leaving a few things out as well.
> 
> But anyways, enough rambling, I hope you enjoy the story as much as I liked writing it. ((I'm really just writing this for myself, but if anyone else likes it, let me know :-) ))
> 
> ((Panchito and Jose aren't in this first chapter, my bad))

A wave crashes into the ship, knocking Donald flat onto his back, seeing stars and swallowing what seemed to be gallons of seawater. It hurts his head and makes his eyes sting and the taste of salt has invades his mouth, but Donald's never felt more alive. He's in his element. No storm at sea is going to stop him.

But in the back of his mind, Donald Duck, former E-5 Buck Sergeant, Navy Man, and current avid sailor, knew one thing he was sure of at the moment that worried him. And badly.

It was unlucky to go on a journey by sea on Fridays.

And today was Friday, and Donald Duck, going against all sailor superstitions and common sense, was on a ship, on a Friday. That happened to fall on his birthday.  
Well, their birthday. Lucky to know if any misfortune happened to befall him, his twin sister would be their to share it with.

Donald had told Della so. Della had agreed, but only to appease her twin's apprehensiveness and unease about the birthday outing; after all, their Uncle Scrooge had planned it, and Donald knew that there is no convincing Della out of an adventure. Della needs it. She lives on the adrenaline rushes and danger. She needed it now especially, with three children on the way - who knows how long the next opportunity for an outing like this would come along.

Scrooge had practically pushed them out the door, a smile on face, telling them to have fun.

"No more stalling you too! Get on with it. Just get to the where I showed you on the map and have the time of your lives!  
Bring back souvenirs if ye can find any!"

So off they went.

Della Duck hadn't been on an adventure in ages.

~*~

 

(("Del, it's only been 7 months".

"7 months too long, brother o'mine. Come on let's get going, before Uncle Scrooge changes his mind about babysitting."

She of course didn't leave before giving Huey, Dewey, and Louie a tight hug, and kiss, lamenting that they couldn't come with them.

"Maybe they'll like boats, Donald, and grow up to be sailors like you.”

Donald had laughed and ruffled the boys feather on their heads, then picked them up to look at them properly.

"Sailors, eh? Maybe. They'll have the best teacher in the world! And they'll be better sailors than I'll ever be." He had smiled fondly as he said this. ))

 

~*~

 

((She believes it, now that's he's gone. He can't teach them, but she will. They'll be sailors as good as their uncle had been. That would have made him proud.))

 

~*~

 

She's going to make her brother proud. ((He's always been proud of her, she knows this, he always used to tell her so.))

Her brother is gone. He died at sea.

((While in the Navy, in letters, he always used to joke if anything happened, at least he'd have a burial that made sense for a sailor and naval officer.  
In the next letter, she had told him off so badly, he never made the joke again.))

But it wasn't supposed to be him.  
Not Donald, NEVER Donald. HE was the sailor, he had been in the Navy. Her brother had lived on a houseboat, for crying out loud, he knew how these things worked! Donald Duck should have known how to save himself.  
She knows he knows how to.

He did.

Donald Duck knew how to save himself. He'd been trained for that. Except Donald, stupid, wonderful, klutzy, ((brave, though he never thought himself as that)) confident, brother that he was, didn't save himself. Didn't save himself because he was busy being a nosy younger brother, ((by 20 seconds! Donald always used to rage over that)) and instead of actually thinking it over, ((he never waited, always acted without thinking)) he reached his hand out to her and endangered himself. But then again, The Duck Family was always known for endangering themselves during their adventures.

But Donald was never about endangering himself.  
Unless it came to family. And it had been her, his twin, his sister, so of course he'd done it.

Della Duck never loved boats. The sea was never meant for her, never called for her like it called for her brother. Her heart and soul belongs to the sky. And to he, the sea. ((Scrooge was always land, down to earth, drawn to diamonds and gold, though his need for adventure was something beyond anything of this Earth.))

Donald Duck took his sister's place.

The wave had knocked Della overboard, and she had hung onto the side of the ship, as the sea crashed around her . The skies above had been blotted out and color of tar. The wind howled and along with it, so had her brother.

"Del? Del! DELLA!!"

He had clearly been panicked. She never liked it when her brother had panicked.

"Donald! Don! It's ok, I'm fine".

He had heard and peered over the railing. She remembers seeing relief clearly on his face.

He had climbed over the railing and made his way down, reaching for her. He had grabbed her hand. They had both held on.

"Your meaning of fine, Della, is clearly different from mine".

"Donald Duck, brother o'mine, you can wake the dead with your screams".

"Well obviously it's because I don't want YOU dead."

((It was joke, siblings ribbing at each other, but afterward, Della wished she COULD wake the dead with screams, any screams, to get her brother back.))

"No need to be salty, Don. Though it is your job to be the grumpy sailor. But lighten up a bit. We're fine."

Della had smiled innocently as she said this, though her words had held little effect with salt water getting blasted in her face and the ship viciously swaying side to side. Donald had only responded to her jeers by rolling his eyes, though he had been smiling fondly at his twin.

"Again, Della your meaning of fine and 'all right' is more likely to lead us straight to danger than to safety! Just like Uncle Scrooge!"

"Well Don, your bad luck and attraction to booby traps leads us to more danger and adventure, more than Uncle Scrooge can ever find on his own!"

They were now both climbing back up to the Forecastle Deck, their voices had reverberated of the ship's hull as they spoke.

Della had said, "Let's just agree that we're both like Uncle Scrooge and move on". And Donald had agreed, smiling, albeit a bit nervously, but saying he agreed only because they were both in the middle of an adventure.

"Besides, I'm nothing like Uncle Scrooge. Uncle Scrooge would be offended to think ANYONE is like him." Smiling even more, he added to his sister: "Heck, I'm offended that you think I'M like Uncle Scrooge".

((Della had known he was lying, she knew that he had wanted Scrooge to be proud of him, to acknowledge that his nephew was like him, in at least a few ways. And Della knew, Della knows, that Scrooge is, was proud of Donald, he just never admitted it as much as he should have.))

((And Scrooge regrets so much that when he finally does show Donald how proud of him he is, how maybe ((certainly)) Donald is, was, a better man than he'll ever be, it's not directed at Donald himself, not with a hand on his shoulder, but his shaking hand laying on stone as he says the words and pretends not to cry.))

Their banter was light and so was their laugher

Laughter. Della's laughter rang across the turbulent ocean, and Donald's as well, and all was well between siblings . She hoisted herself up over the railing, she had turned around to help him up.

Donald was turned away from her, looking up. A single colossal wave was making their way towards them. Donald turned around and had looked at her dead in the eye. She hadn't been able see the sky anymore. The Wave had made it's way getting closer.

Donald had said "don't worry Dumbella. TRUST ME."

And he had pushed her hard to the middle of the deck of the ship, he'd been right behind her. He told her to climb to the top of the Main Topmast. He'd been right behind her. She got to the top. He hadn't been there.

She looked around and Donald had been at the tiller, steering the ship in the direction it needed to be in order to brace itself for the wave. She'd been yelling at him, (("Don! Don! DONALD FAUNTERLOY DUCK, GET UP HERE!! MOVE! MOVE!")) and he'd been trying to tell her something, but Della couldn't hear over the sounds of the sea.

Donald had been staring right at her, as the wave had loomed closer. He hadn't moved from his spot. He motioned to his pockets and then he pointed to her. Della looked, and clutched in her hands ((still clutched in her hands as she remembers)) had been Donald's sailor hat.

Once a cheap gift from her as a joke, he had taken it seriously and had put on everyday after that.

Della had been holding that hat, as she saw her younger brother from her perch and best bet for safety that had existed on that old ship. Donald had still been looking at her and she couldn't scream his name anymore ((wake the dead)) because suddenly, everything had been gone and vanished underneath a wall of salt water and murky blue.

She had come back up; Donald had been right with choosing the mast. The ship had still been intact, again thanks to Donald's sailor skills and Della thinks that maybe even Scrooge wouldn't have known how to steer the ship, if he had been with them.  
((She's bitter that he wasn't with them when it happened. He could have helped Donald. He shouldn't have suggested the idea of an outing. She shouldn't have accepted it.))

Donald.  
Donald was gone. No trace of him left. She had known that he'd been taken away with The Wave, but it hadn't stopped her from jumping down from mast, landing wrong, and breaking her ankle. She had still run like hell to the edge of the ship.

Nothing. No movement, no nothing. Donald Duck was gone

Don, her twin brother is gone. And there's no trace of him anywhere.

She had screamed his name, even though it was futile, long and hard, until her throat was scratched raw from screaming and sobbing.

((Wake the dead.  
Wake the dead.  
Wake the dead.))

 

Della Duck cannot wake the dead and her brother is gone.


	2. The Sign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> José Carioca and Panchito Pistoles receive a sign
> 
> Or José isn't his usual self and proceeds to scare the bejeezus out of Panchito.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to honestly thank all of you. I didn't really expect this much love for this story.  
> And I'm sorry if it could be written better or updated more frequently instead of being all over the place.

 José Carioca cannot breathe. His lungs are rapidly running out of air, and his face is turning a rather interesting shade of red. He's screaming; he's been screaming for a longtime now. He wants the pressure in his chest to let up and let him breathe, but no matter  how much he struggles and claws at his chest, he feels it. 

   Something is wrong. Horribly wrong. Something ((someone)) is missing and it  _hurts._ In the back of his mind, José realizes he's still screaming.  

   His screams are high pitched, worse than Panchito's before he breaks out into song, and can be heard throughout the entire house, thick walls and doors be damned.

  Speaking of Panchito, there he is; bursting through the door and into the room, revolvers at ready. 

"Hands up! Mandó al carajo él quien toca mi amigo!"

  He is immediately confused upon finding no intruder in the room, only José, still screaming and writhing around on the floor. In an instant, he puts down his revolvers and runs to his friend.

   "José! José! Estas bien mi amigo? Are you ok my friend? Please, speak to me!"

  José, whose thrashing has seemed to stop, looks like he's going to say something. He takes a shaking breath. It's immediately cut off with a grunt of pain and a hoarse yelling.  He begins to spasm. The yells turn into more screams.

  A now frantic Panchito grabs his friend by the shoulders, and hold him down, a task made difficult with a struggling José. He pulls the sheets off the bed, along with the pillow and slips it beneath José's head. They're both laying on the floor now, a shaking José in Panchito's arms. Eventually, the parrot's screams taper off, leaving the house quiet, but with a thoroughly frightened Panchito. José doesn't move, and the rooster's ears ring and arms ache from the ordeal.  

  They lay on the floor next to each other for a while, within arms reach, but then José shakes Panchito off of him and gets up, as if he hadn't been convulsing on the floor a few minutes ago. Panchito stays behind, but close enough to see what José's doing. He watches his friend; he'll make sure he won't fall again.

  José walks to the closet and roots through it, finally pulling out a photo album. José tosses it to Panchito, who scrambles back as it hits the spot on the floor he had occupied only a second ago. Dust kicks into the air and Panchito coughs, but he recognizes the picture the album falls open to.  

  The smiling faces of Donald Duck, José Carioca, and himself, arms around each other's shoulders, stare up at him; it contrasts the look on José's face, with sweat on his feathers and a blank stare in his eyes. 

  "Zé, please; tell me what's going on", pleads Panchito, who is confused and looking up at his friend, and then back down at the album. José makes his way to his friend and then sits next to him. He takes the rooster's hands; with the other, he points at the picture. 

"Panch, eu não sei — I don't know  _how_ I know this, but..”

He stops, takes a breath, and he says exactly what Panchito had hoped he wouldn't say:

  "Donal' está com problemas — Donal's in trouble. "

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could probably be better written, or longer.  
> Whoops :-/ 
> 
> Translation Notes:  
> Mandó al carajo él quien toca mi amigo-- I'll send to hell, whoever touches my friend. Or You touch my friend, you're going to hell.


End file.
